Outline of a Shadow
by indulgence
Summary: From afar, Meyrin attends the funeral of a former lover. Implied AxC


**Disclaimer: **I do not own GS/GSD, its ownership lies with Bandai and Sunrise.

**Summary: **From afar, Meyrin attends the funeral of a former lover.

**Character: ** This is a Meyrin centered one-shot, with hinted Meyrin/Athrun and implied Athrun/Cagalli.

**A/N: **Even as a staunch Athrun/Cagalli fan, I couldn't find the heart to hate Meyrin. In retrospect, she was just thrown in the mix. Please review and let me know what you think.

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**-x-**

She stands apart from the gathering crowd. Because that was what she's been feeling like lately, always looking in from the outside, a spectator even in her own life—standing at the edge, always seemingly waiting for something.

She does not know exactly why she dragged herself here. Is it to remind herself of something she perhaps has lost along all these years? Did she want some kind of reprieve from her grievance? From what exactly or whom, she's not quite sure.

But she stands here at the edge, eyes wavering from person to person, their faces having a cold familiarity to it. It is easy to know them. They are faces from long ago and faces that continually drag through and through the flow of news. _World leaders_, that's what they are, and it is then that she is hit by a sudden painful reminder: she isn't one of them. And in her simple black dress, her mind glares at how misplaced she is.

The wind softly teases her, and her attention reverts to her black hat, trying to keep her shorter tresses underneath its brim. She stops her ministrations upon noticing a young man slowly approach her, and her heart just stops at the sight. Before her, she sees a ghost that has not stopped haunting her since the day he had left with that sad, guilty smile of his.

She does not understand why his lanky figure has preserved all of its youthful characteristics, even after all these years. She watches how his soft blue hair sways with the wind as his head is slightly bowed from her view. She anticipates his words, not even at least aghast that he is there when he shouldn't be at all.

It is not until he stands completely before her, an arm-length away from her, that she realizes her grave mistake. It is when his head turns to her, and the sun's rays make light of the golden specks dancing in his green irises, that she slowly understands him to be another being that have haunted her with every step of the way. And she knows that her heart has begun to beat again in an achingly slow pace. She finally notices that his hair is a little shorter and that his features were a lot less sharp. But it is when he easily smiles at her that she realizes more and more of _her _embodies him that she no longer knows what her heart is truly feeling.

"Hello," the doppelganger says, with that painfully friendly smile of his. She falters before slightly upturning her lips in to a polite smile, then nodding her head rather timidly under his gaze.

"Did you know my father?" he asks quietly, and she stares back at him, hoping that somehow she could answer his question with dry eyes.

She looks away from him, thinking that maybe, it would make things easier for her. "I did a long time ago." She lies easily, quietly in her brave attempt of a nonchalant voice. Her mind is filled with images of _him_ from a long time ago, but the memories linger like they were from yesterday and the day before that, everything replaying in her mind. She can still hear her ex-husband's voice in her head, before he turned away from her—never to look back. _**You can't let go of him, can you?**_

Maybe he was right. Maybe he wasn't. But to her it is all the same, because she is still alone. And realized that she had been, for a long, long time.

She straightens the lapels of her coat, and quietly steals a glance at her companion. "You look a lot like him," she whispers, suddenly feeling her throat dry with bitterness.

He runs his hand through his hair and smiles sadly. "I know. I get that a lot." And for a moment, she thinks that it is _him_ smiling sadly down at her. She fights the urge to wrap her arms around this familiar stranger.

Because it's all wishful thinking, everything she has thought about has been wishful.

He turns slightly away from her, craning his neck to glance at the mourners in the distance. "I suppose you also knew my mother."

She ignores the dulling of her heart, and shakes her head, the half-lie easy in her lips. "I've only met her once," her eyes catches his, "but the impression she gave me…she was quite a remarkable woman." She has met _her_ countless times at those political functions she had dreaded attending because she knew that _she _would be there and she did not need nor want to be reminded of how _un_remarkable she was in comparison.

But it took only a couple of years for _him_ to agree with that deduction. She tries to shake the frown that formed at the thought, and her companion eases her to the present with his quiet voice.

"Thank you," he starts humbly, before shaking his head. "I'm sorry I haven't introduced myself. My name is Nicol Uzumi Zala," he reaches out his hand to hers, not noticing the way her frame stiffened.

_**Nicol. I want to name my first son, Nicol.**_

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss…" She bites the underside of her lower lip, trying to steady the flurry of emotions threatening to overwhelm her.

"Meyrin Hawke," she supplies quietly, taking his hand in hers. She feels conscious once she realizes his scrutiny of her and quickly unclasps her hands from his, but his hand remains atop hers, his face in slight awe.

His words leave her breathless. "You saved my father. He has spoken of you." She wants to ask him, _how many times?_ But she remains silent and only smile, until she finally finds her voice.

"And in return he had saved me."

_Maybe he shouldn't have_, she thinks despondently because it was the beginning of the end or a beginning to something that shouldn't have. It was a perfect emulation of false hope.

She turns to the dispersing crowd and wonder if she will be able to kneel in front of his grave and trace his name along the cold stone. She wants to, but she feels tired and weak; and she knows that _her _name would keep a silent vigil just as always.

The feeling of displacement returns and she suddenly wants to retreat back home, where only memories haunt her and she could shut her eyes and change how she remembered them to be.

"They really loved each other deeply," she voices out, keeping her lips firm to hold down the growing unsteadiness of her voice. He follows her line of vision to two rows of freshly burrowed soil.

Bitterness peels down on his voice, "Yes, even in the end, they both tried to protect one another. There wasn't anything that could tear them apart."

_You're wrong._ She wants to object. _Even if it was only for awhile…I was able to hold him down._ Instead she offers her condolences and he accepts it with a meek nod, already she could see his shoulders slump with the weight of his inheritance.

She watches him walk away, her smile slipping away from her.

And all she could think of is that if fate had smiled upon her, she would be walking quietly at his side, his arms around her shoulders in a soothing manner and when the fingers of the sun grazes his face his haunting green eyes would sparkle with the calming blue waves of an ocean and not the specks of amber that has always left her in the edge of shadows.

_Did I even have a chance to begin with?_

**-x-**

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End file.
